


august slipped away into a moment in time

by benditlikepress



Series: folklore [1]
Category: NCIS
Genre: Canon Compliant, Episode: s04e01 Shalom, F/M, brief flash of what was going on that summer, summer of secret sex tm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:01:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25571749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/benditlikepress/pseuds/benditlikepress
Summary: As the summer of 2006 draws to a close, Ziva assesses the changes it has brought to hers and Tony's relationship.
Relationships: Ziva David/Anthony DiNozzo
Series: folklore [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1853221
Comments: 14
Kudos: 48





	august slipped away into a moment in time

**Author's Note:**

> first of a series inspired by taylor swift’s album Folklore. I can’t tell you how many it’ll include, it could be 2 it could be 400. title from this one is from August. 
> 
> in s4 jenny told gibbs that a lot of tough stuff happened while he was away that tony had to deal with. consider me intrigued

“Excuse me?”

It took Ziva a couple of seconds to register the new person stood in the bullpen, looking between her, McGee, and Lee with confusion.

“Can I help you?” The newly senior-ised McGee eventually responded after a pause to ‘um’. Apparently it wasn’t just Ziva who was feeling the effects of a busy couple of days.

"Where's Special Agent Gibbs?"

Though she’d tried to return to her work, the question instinctively made her look back up. "Not here. Who are you?”

“FBI Special Agent Kyle Miller. Can I leave a message?"

Ziva and McGee shared a look.

"He doesn't work here anymore."

"Wait, what?"

"Uh-huh. He's retired."

Ziva was still watching but couldn’t see the man’s face now he’d turned to face McGee. She could sense his exaggerated reaction, though, even from just the back of him. "Re- god, man. Sure that's gonna last, huh?"

"Oh, I think he's serious about it."

"Yeah, but, c'mon. It's Gibbs. He'll be back."

“I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Things at NCIS that rough?”

“Can we do something for you?” Ziva eventually butted in curtly, the agent’s obnoxious tone very swiftly beginning to grate as he tried to make inside jokes about something he had no knowledge of. He turned around to face her and she leaned forward in her chair, hoping to encourage him from pushing the issue any further. As it was, he barely acknowledged her before turning his back to her again. Misogyny or plain-old arrogance, at this point it was hard to tell.

"Who's in charge around here?"

"I am." Tony swept into the room self-aggrandising, coffee in hand and stance confident. "Who's asking?"

"Miller. FBI. I was just saying to these guys, no way it'll last, right? Gibbs?"

Miller was frustratingly insistent, a painful smile on his face as he nodded and looked for backup. A remarkable inability to read the room.

"What do you want, Miller?"

Tony’s tone was harsh, and it finally seemed to crack Miller’s bizarre insistence. If he’d heard of Gibbs, maybe he’d heard of Tony too, and perhaps the reception was jarring. He blinked. "I- Gibbs asked me for updates on our triple homicide."

"Alright, shoot."

“It’s not an NCIS case, Sir. Gibbs just wanted to keep up with what was going on.”

“If it was his business, it’s my business.”

Tony was being curt and terse, and usually Ziva would call him out on it but today she could understand. She wondered how it must feel – to be constantly reminded that you’re second best. She’d been lucky, in a way, that she had seemingly been so different to Kate that the comparisons between them hadn’t lasted long. It had been three months and people still hadn’t given up reminding Tony that they expected someone else to be sat in his chair.

Perhaps that was the reason she felt such a loyalty to him now. Not just crafted from a year of working as partners, but from seeing every day how hard he had been fighting to make all of this work.

While Miller stuttered through explanations of trace evidence to a stony-faced Tony, his desk phone started ringing.

Ziva pushed past Tony to his phone, feeling his thighs tight in his jeans as she brushed along.

She tuned out his ongoing conversation with the FBI as she listened. Their victim's car had just been found, half an hour’s drive from their body. She hung up and found Tony’s eyes settling on her immediately, a quiet pleading that suggested he was desperate for the type of phone-call they’d just received.

“We need to go.” Was the only explanation she gave as Miller looked between them.

“Duty calls. Thanks for keeping us updated.” Tony nodded at Miller, a little more placid now but still clearly feeling the need to prove himself. Miller ducked his head as he headed back off towards the elevator.

* * *

Tony was quiet and professional for the rest of the afternoon. Ziva wasn’t sure if nobody else had noticed or if they’d decided to ignore it for the chance at an easy life, but she found her eyes drawn back to him repeatedly.

It hadn't been an easy ride. Far from it. She knew the thought of Gibbs coming back was never far from his mind, either. She wondered if he knew more about it than he was letting on. He surprised her, sometimes, with his ability to keep his cards close to his chest.

When they got back from seeing the car, which they’d quickly established wasn’t the crime scene given the lack of blood in the area, Tony had sent McGee and Lee back to the body dump site to see if they’d missed anything. The two of them had continued to work silently, going over witness statements and digging into the victim’s background with still very little to go on.

They got out of the office almost on-time for once, and Ziva threw Tony a look over her shoulder as they walked in opposite directions in the parking lot. He nodded and smiled at her, a little, but she wasn’t quite sure what that meant.

* * *

As had become routine, Ziva’s buzzer sounded a little more than an hour after she’d got home.

She clicked to let him inside after 2 sounds of the buzzer, having spent the evening so far bustling around pretending to be doing anything else but waiting. She’d recently turned on the news, hoping to hear about anything except murder but coming up blank. In fact, the FBI case they’d heard about earlier had suddenly taken centre-stage.

She wasn't quite sure what to expect of Tony after today, but got her answer when he piled through the door all at once and immediately had his hands cupping her face, bringing his lips to hers ferociously. She moved him back to shut the door behind him with his body and he ended up turning her against it, the feel of the handle hard against the small of her back.

They’d never required any pretence for what this was – _whatever_ it was. Ziva pulled him closer with her hands around his neck.

"Was I an asshole today?" He said the words against her, so close she could feel each breath.

"A little."

"Crap. I'm so sick of the FBI."

"I know."

"Every day, I swear, there's a new one. I’ve never seen so many. Case update for Gibbs? Where is he? You'd think they could send out a freaking chain email at this point.."

Ziva pulled away a little and waited until he looked her in the face properly. Their hands, by now, captured between them. She didn't say anything, or even try to, before he took a deep breath.

"Sorry. Sorry, I.. I don't know why it bothered me so much."

“It has been 3 months. It’s a little ridiculous that it is still such a big deal.”

In equal parts she both meant the sentiment and understood that it wasn’t just them that was struggling to readjust to NCIS post-Gibbs. Nevertheless Tony seemed relieved at the confirmation he wasn’t irrational, closing the space between them again. His hands were warm.

"Do you want a beer?"

"Hmph," the reply was muffled by his lips barely escaping hers. "Not thirsty anymore."

"You are the only person I know who likes that beer, you do not have a choice."

"How'd you know I was coming?"

"Because, Tony, you are a creature of habit."

"You think you know everything about me, huh?"

"I do." Ziva scrunched her face and turned on her heels, walking into the kitchen. She leaned to the back of the counter to grab the beers that were pressed against the wall, and though she'd exaggerated the movement on purpose she still got a little jolt of surprise when she felt hands grab her hips.

She turned back around holding the beers in front of her, getting satisfaction from the way Tony's eyes were flickering down her as he held her hips against him.

“Let’s sit down. It has been a long day.”

Tony sighed as she kissed him chastely before moving out of his space, making her way back into the living room and opening the two beers. She handed him one with a raised eyebrow and he winked at the gesture, which earned him an eye-roll she was sure he sought out on purpose.

"What are we watching?"

The 'we' came out casually as Tony shrugged off his jacket and settled down on the sofa.

"See for yourself." Ziva turned up the volume and watched as Tony tilted the beer to his mouth.

_'.... Can confirm that off the evidence found today we were able to arrest a 53-year-old man in connection with the triple murders we have been investigating since April 29th. We would like to thank..'_

"Well, there you have it. Good for him."

Ziva sat down at his side, close, and drank some of her own bottle.

"Is this what he told you earlier?"

"Said they had a guy in mind. Didn't realise it was gonna happen that quickly."

“DNA?”

“Must’ve been. Lucky for them – might’ve made this whole thing a little easier to solve for us. How is it possible? Two scenes, not one piece of DNA?”

“Professionals?”

“Killing a Sunday school teacher?” He made a noise of disbelief.

“You would be surprised.”

“Oh yeah?” Ziva shrugged at him knowingly. “I don’t know. Can’t shake the feeling we’re missing something.”

Ziva was glad Tony trusted her now as much as he did. She'd never expected this from them: silent understanding and non-judgemental discussion, the way they'd been able to have genuine constructive conversations about the difficulties of managing the team.

Though she had technically become his subordinate now, she was able to recognise the ways experiences had been echoed to keep them on a more even theoretical footing. She felt as though she had a responsibility to help him out - being thrust into positions of higher tenure at Mossad, thrown to the lions, leaving her with what she hoped were pieces of advice that would come in handy.

Tony did seem to appreciate them, even if at first he'd been bemused by her attempts to broach the subject.

They discussed the case for a while as they tended to do, working through their thoughts out loud being Tony’s preferred method of problem-solving. It seemed to serve them well, though ideas were hard to come by tonight. Their attentions waned and they refocused on the television, barely paying notice of the reality show that had started after the news. Tony was sipping his drink, seemingly content, but Ziva’s mind was still focused on the day’s events.

At some point one of her legs had found its way across his, settling between them, and his hand had come to rest on it. Without any sense of pause or hesitation be began to stroke her thigh through the thin material.

It wasn't explicitly a romantic gesture, but it was intimate in a way that should've set off alarm bells in Ziva's head. The fact she did it so instinctively, without hesitation, only served to set them off further.

Easy. So, so easy.

Ziva could barely remember how it had started now, much less how it had become such a routine. They ended up together a couple of nights a week and it was fun - laughter and dinner and bickering and sex, nights melding together as the summer stretched out hotter and hotter in front of them.

It was safe to say things still weren't as easy-going at work, but that only seemed to serve them more. They'd never say as such, but it was an escape: the two of them between these four walls. Ziva thought she'd seen more of the real Tony in those sporadic nights than she had done in the year she'd worked with him every day.

June had been hard. Like today – frenetic and chaotic, moods unstable. They’d had some awful cases, some that were still ongoing, as though everyone had been waiting for Gibbs to leave to drop shitshow after shitshow on them. Tony had accepted his new role quicker than Ziva had expected him to, but he’d been defensive and inwardly desperate to be taken seriously. She hadn’t expected that from him. She’d even less expected that things between them would develop so soon, as though the plug had been pulled. They’d barely made it two weeks after Gibbs had left.

July that followed was lighter; settled, and busy in the best way. Things between them light-hearted and passionate. August, now, things were taking a turn. The nights were starting to blend into one in a way that should make her nervous. Inability to organise events or keep a handle on what was going on. It felt, strangely, a little like losing control.

Though the sex was a regular occurrence since June, so much so it was hard to keep a track on each individual event, this was new. An August development. The casual touching. Not a poke in the side, or a lean over her shoulder to look at her computer. Her legs on his lap. His hand running up and down her thigh, languid and innocent.

She watched his hand tonight as it moved, an easy comforting motion usually reserved for a significant other. The kind that would’ve made her cringe, before.

Is that what she was? A significant other? Was this significant at all?

"Do you ever think about it?" Ziva asked the question vaguely, but the way Tony's hand stilled for a split second made it clear he knew what she was talking about. It started moving again, more pointedly.

"He's not coming back, Ziva."

"Do we know that for sure?"

"What does it matter?" It sounded a touch argumentative, coming from him, and Ziva could see she was right that there were still issues bubbling beneath the surface surrounding all of this.

"Of course it matters."

“I can’t think like that. I don't know, OK? I have no idea. I’m doing everything I can to hold all of us together.”

“I know that. I am sorry if..”

“No, I.. hey. I’m not… I’m just trying my best, Ziva. I can’t go through life expecting him to rock up one day and fix everything.”

“I do know that, Tony, really. I did not.. mean to make you think otherwise. I know I give you a hard time sometimes, but you are doing a good job. Nobody could expect anything more.”

“Then what?”

“So much has changed since he left.”

“Yeah.”

“The new normal.”

The words came out pondering, and Tony tilted his head to look her in the eye carefully.

She knew, deep down, she wasn't just talking about Tony's job.

She wondered how much things would change between them, if he ever did come back. Not just the sex (though she was certain they'd have reservations over that), but everything else too. This newfound understanding between them, the steady partnership that relied upon Tony's newly heightened authority.

“Until we’re told otherwise. _If_ we’re told otherwise.”

“You were not yourself today - I suppose I was just wanting to check everything is alright. If you are not just burying your head in the band.”

“Firstly, that doesn’t even make sense as a metaphor. But whatever. You were worried about me.” There was a hint of amusement in his voice, an almost smug glint in his eyes. Ziva rolled her own.

“I did not say that, I just..”

“You were.”

“Maybe a little.”

He smiled and Ziva resisted the urge to return it, still finding it hard to contend with the new feeling in her stomach when it was directed towards her.

“I am. Processing it, I mean. I know I’ve kinda thrown myself into all of this but it’s not like I’ve had any other choice. Not really. Maybe if I was in McGee’s position, or yours, it’d be different. I mean, I worked with the guy for years. I never expected any of this to happen. But I can’t afford to sit around thinking about all of that when the team needs something holding it together.”

"I know what it is like - when you feel you have to prove to other people you are worthy of your position."

"Are you talking about here or Mossad?"

"Both. But when I first started at Mossad, I felt as though I constantly had to be the best. As though I was trying to show to everyone that I deserved to be where I was, that I belonged amongst them."

"You were a kid. And a woman."

"That is partially my point. I was new to a position that had expectation and left me under scrutiny, not just because of who my father was but because of everything else too. I am just letting you know that I understand that. Feeling eyes on you. Not wanting to show weakness."

"I don't think it's just that. I think I just.. I'm trying to prove it to myself, too."

Ziva lifted one of her hands to his cheek and ran it over the day-old stubble. He seemed to miss out on shaving a little more often these days. “You are a good man, Tony. Even with your campfires and your constant talking.”

“I’ll remember you said that when you get mad about it tomorrow.”

“And I will deny everything.”

A look passed between them, calm and a little soft. Ziva felt her eyes wander involuntarily down to his lips to get the measure on the smile on them, and when she looked back up at his eyes he frowned in question.

“Have you eaten? I’m hungry.”

The adjustment was expected – neither of them quite well-versed enough with that kind of conversation to be able to transition out of it slowly.

Ziva grabbed her phone and dialled for pizza by way of response, watching Tony out of the corner of her eye as he settled back into the cushions and flicked through channels on the TV. When she hung up he looked at her expectantly.

“30 minutes.”

“So long, huh?”

He kissed her then and it was so in contrast to how he'd first arrived: slow and calm, his hand slowly wandering up her leg and settling on her hip. His tongue curled its way into her mouth and it was so familiar, now, the way he would push slightly at her shoulders to encourage her down onto the sofa. The majority of the time she'd resist, overpowering him enough to flip their positions and pin him down, but some nights like tonight she was happy to let him on top of her, digging her fingers into his arms and feeling his hot breath against her.

They continued like that until the food arrived, where the traditional argument over who was going to pay led to Tony almost racing her to the door to answer it.

Ziva watched him as he spoke to the delivery man – tired hand running through his mussed hair, rubbing his eyes and the bridge of his nose, the creases in the back of his shirt. She knew off the slim evidence she’d personally gathered that he wasn’t sleeping much. Less when they had a difficult case like this one, though he did a good job of putting on a front about it. Never one to show weakness.

When he placed the food down on the coffee table and began to open it she was still watching him, and he flicked her a curious glance over his shoulder.

“What?”

"Do you want to stay over?"

He had done before, of course. Drunken naps on the couch, or the two of them rolling over to sleep after hours and hours of boisterous sex. This, though, was different. She’d never asked him outright before.

“Alright.”

“Yes?”

“Yeah.”

“OK.” Ziva nodded and they settled back down, conversation brief and handled as though about something as simple as deciding what to eat, but a hint of nerves in their voices.

* * *

Dinner swiftly turned into sex on the couch turned into a movie that Ziva thought she put in a valiant effort with, making it through an hour before entirely losing the will to live. 

She pressed pause.

"If I have to watch any more, I will not be held responsible for my actions."

"It's a classic. Usually you don't mind classics."

"If this is considered a classic, then that is just proof that people did not have enough different sources of entertainment back then." Tony's face lit up in amusement. "What?"

"You sound like me talking about books."

Ziva could feel defensiveness build at the implication. "Perhaps if it was a book there would be more to understand than people walking from room to room staring into space and mumbling. You enjoy this?"

"You're supposed to figure it out for yourself."

"They are not exactly giving you anything to work with. I could barely understand a word they were saying."

"You know what? Fair enough. I didn't think you'd last this long."

"Neither did I."

"Your sacrifice is noted." Tony lifted his arms from the back of the sofa and stretched them over his head, landing one back down where it had been resting on Ziva’s shoulder. “Maybe we should head. I think I wanna go talk to the husband again tomorrow morning. Catch him off-guard.”

“I think you are right. The man in charge is showing very little sign of giving us a day off any time soon.”

He chuckled tiredly and poked her at the point where his hand had landed on bare skin. “You think you have any sway?”

“No, actually, I think what I say makes no difference at all.”

“Sounds like an asshole.”

“He has his moments.”

“In that case, we should get some sleep.”

Ziva waited for Tony to stand up first and he decided to hold out his hand to help her up, something she was grateful for as she felt the alcohol and tiredness fuzz her head as she came fully upright. She swayed a little into him as they stood.

His face was strange as she looked at him from the close angle – something in his eyes she couldn’t quite identify and a smile playing on his lips that she covered with her own.

* * *

The air was a strangely charged kind of calm as they got ready for bed. Ziva could feel Tony’s eyes on her as she moved around the room, and when she readjusted her pillows she looked up and caught them. He smiled.

“What?”

“Do you really think I don’t listen to you?”

“No. I think you do. A day off would not go amiss, but I realise there is very little either of us can do about that right now.”

“Yeah, maybe if people could stop killing each other for five minutes we could even get some vacation time.”

“I think you should set your sights lower.”

“Yeah, you might be right there.” They went quiet again, and Tony tapped his fingers against his leg. “And, uh.. thanks, Ziva.”

She nearly asked him what for, but she could see the sincerity in his eyes as he replaced the pillows on the bed and pulled back the blankets. The kind of vulnerability she’d been wondering if he would be willing to show given the circumstances. A flicker, and then gone.

“Any time.”

They got into bed quietly and Ziva instinctively turned away, backing herself towards Tony and touching in some places but not fully against him. He exhaled slowly.

Neither of them knew it would only be a couple of weeks before Ziva would find herself in trouble and end up begging Gibbs to come home. Tony somehow pushed back to the back burner, growing distant and keeping secrets so soon off the ricochet of this.

They didn't know.

Tony’s hand landed on Ziva’s hip and she pulled it around her.


End file.
